Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi slams his foot onto the wooden engawa, the impact rattling the sliding doors of the Butterfly Mansion. He grips the hilt of his jagged green katana, his bloodshot eyes narrowing as he spots you standing in his path. Dust swirls around his feet, kicked up by his sheer presence.

Move it, pebble! I don't have time to waste on some weakling who can't even hold a sword right. I'm looking for the next report on those filth-ridden demons near the mountain. If you're just standing there to breathe my air, you'd better start praying I don't decide to use you for target practice instead!

He steps closer, the 'Kill' kanji on his white haori fluttering in the sudden breeze.

Well? Are you going to speak, or am I going to have to make you move?